


if your cascade, ocean wave blues come

by spideysrogers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Depression, Domestic Sam Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Protective Sam Winchester, Reader Needs a Hug, seasonal depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27893998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideysrogers/pseuds/spideysrogers
Summary: ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ପूଓ ˖˚˳ㅡ ❛ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 ❜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it's freezing over again. by now,⠀⠀sam knows how to warm her heart⠀⠀up. it may just take a little time.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	if your cascade, ocean wave blues come

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for references to seasonal depression. reader is seriously not feeling too good but sam helps the best he can.  
> i thought maybe some of us could use some solace this time of year.

They’ve figured out by now that it’s a seasonal thing. Her episodes can pop up throughout the year, every so often, but the two of them have figured out that they’re definitely more frequent during the colder months. He did some reading up on it - turns out it’s fairly common for the dropping temperatures and darker evenings to influence it. This means they can prepare themselves.

Today, though, it seems to have hit her like a storm. The waves have come crashing down, bitter cold biting at her skin and weighing heavy over her eyelids. She screws them even tighter shut. 

The book lying open on the desk hasn’t been read, still open on page one as her stiff, cold fingers clutch the wrinkled corner. She hasn’t had any of the tea she made. It’s been sitting in the mug for a long time; it’ll be cold by now. 

He knows, of course he does. She doesn’t hear his bare feet padding across the library floor - ears clogged up and muffled by the rising icy water - and she doesn’t see him sit in the chair beside her but her eyes slowly open when a warm hand takes hers and guides it away from her dormant copy of  _ ‘The Wind in the Willows’ _ . Eyes on the slightly scuffed knees of his jeans, not quite ready to meet his gaze, she feels him lift her hand and kiss the side of her pointer finger tenderly. 

“‘m sorry,” she murmurs, voice slightly raw.

Sam squeezes her hand instantly, moving down so his breath fans warmly over the shell of her ear, “No, no, don’t.” He nuzzles his nose against her cheekbone, “We’ve talked about this, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

She drops her head to land on his shoulder. His nose tucks into her neck. Her hands are starting to warm up now, wrapped firmly in his, but her numb toes are curling against the floor inside her socks. She tries her best to focus on the heat radiating from Sam’s neck. 

After a moment, he moves - free hand picking up the now cold mug from the desk. Y/N lifts her head, watches as he looks inside at the tea she hasn’t even touched. Letting go of her hand, Sam brushes some of her knotted hair back from her face, “Have you eaten today?”

“‘s only morning.”

“Y/N.” She shakes her head. Sam nods, presses a kiss to her forehead. “Do you think you can manage something now for me?” 

Y/N closes her eyes, lets her head drop. She feels Sam sigh above her.

“Okay, alright.” She feels his fingers run through the hair at the back of her head, fingertips scratching her scalp gently. “We’ll try later, yeah? When we get back.”

Of course, when they get back. 

Sam helps her into weather-appropriate clothes, letting her just sit while he doubles up her pairs of socks, puts her boots on, wraps her up in a jacket and one of his scarves. She’s still sitting there, bundled up and eyes unfocused, when he leaves the room for a moment. She can hear him just outside the doorway - trying to bribe Dean to let them use the car with a twenty dollar bill and a promise that he’ll pick up some burgers on the way back. Dean is adamantly against it until he sticks his head around the doorframe, takes one look at Y/N and agrees to let them drive out. 

When the door opens, the cold outside is  _ biting _ . She freezes in the doorway, feet planting on the floor so that Sam nearly topples over her. Y/N screws her eyes shut as she feels the icy breeze hit her nose. 

“Hey,” Sam murmurs quietly into her ear, hands holding her elbows, “It’s okay.” As she opens her eyes to look at him, he leans round to the side of her with a reassuring smile, “Promise.”

He takes her right hand in his, other resting on the small of her back to guide her outside. It’s snowing, she notices; soft little flakes are dancing through the breeze, swaying down and landing at her feet. She doesn’t quite smile but something is there. The cold weather seems a lot nicer for the moment. 

They don’t drive far - fifteen, twenty minutes or so. Sam’s taken her here before. 

The park is coated in an even layer of snow - not too thick but just enough for Sam to brush it off the bench before they can sit down. It’s relatively quiet compared to the usual dog walkers and giggling children. Y/N’s glad for the peace. 

Sam shifts closer to her on the bench, arms tightening around her as he presses his nose into her hair, “You warm enough, baby?”

She lowers her chin so it’s snug underneath her scarf, “Mhm.”

He just holds her for a few moments, lets her mind unclog. The cold seems to wake her up slightly so Y/N blinks her eyes a few times under the curtain of her hair and begins to refocus her gaze on her snow-covered feet tangled with Sam’s on the ground. 

His hand comes to her face after a while, lifting her chin gently. She continues to blink as she focuses on his face. “Hey,” he whispers. “You’re okay.” Y/N feels herself let out a big breath, swallowing thickly. Sam nods, “You are, it’s alright.” He kisses her head quickly. “It’s gonna pass, darlin’, I promise. I gotcha, you’re just fine.”

Y/N blinks quicker when her eyes start to sting, clenching her teeth as Sam’s eyes watch her and turn wet with sympathy and what she can only describe as pain at seeing her unhappy. “Do you-” She stops to clear her throat when her voice comes out croaky. “Do you think, maybe, you- you could pick me up something - when you get Dean’s burger? Just, um, some fries or something? Something small.”

Sam’s lips attach themselves to her hair, kissing her gently through the strands. “Of course, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “You got it.”


End file.
